Page 46 of His Betrothed
Chapter 13
The impact of Thornton’s body should have crushed Roselyn, but the grass and moss beneath her were like the softest mattress, cushioning her body—and his. She didn’t feel pain, only the width of his chest pressed to hers, his thigh nestled between her thighs.
She felt like a silly fool as her breathing quickened. Surely her heart only raced because she’d been startled. Not becausehe smelled different from her—masculine, even with traces of her soap mingled in.
She didn’t know what to do with her hands, which rested on his back. They practically shared a lovers’ embrace, and when she tried to move, she felt the strangest sensation low in her belly and between her thighs, where he rested.
The sudden flexing of his arms and back made her feel as if she embraced a wild animalwho struggled to be free. She lifted her handsfrom him, but he only propped himself up on his elbows and stared down at her.
Her hands fluttered like restless birds until they came to rest against his sides. She had touched more than this in caring for him, but it was no longer the same.
Thornton stared down at her with dark eyes full of secrets she couldn’t guess. His black hair hung towardher, and she wondered how it would feel brushing against her face. Again she felt that strange heat move languidly inside her.
His gaze delved into her eyes and held her trapped, expectant with wondering. She took her first shallow breath when his eyes began a search of her face that felt as if he touched her. When his gaze lingered on her lips, a little gasp escaped her.
The high grasses madeher feel as if she reclined in the most intimate, private place, where no one could see what she did.
Butshewould know.
Roselyn dropped her hands into the grass. “Thornton—”
“Spencer,” he interrupted.
As his low voice rumbled against her stomach and up through her chest, a little shudder swept through her.
His Christian name held the same intimacies for her that his body did; it wasn’tright.
“Thornton,” she repeated.
A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, and he leaned his weight on one elbow, freeing his hand. Her eyes widened, her mouth went dry as she held her breath, waiting for whatever he would do.
The back of his fingers slid gently down her cheek, and she felt the prick of tears in her eyes.
“What—what are you doing?” she whispered, and her voice sounded aslight as the clouds in the sky.
“Hush, Rose,” he murmured as his breath touched her face, “be still.”
She was caught in the spell of a gentleness she’d never known. She hadn’t imagined a man’s skin could feel so soft as he traced her cheek again, then around her chin. His touch brought her to life like a blossom spreading open with the sunrise. Her chest tightened painfully to feel so much,to take chances she swore she’d never take again.
She looked at his mouth then. She wondered what it would be like to be kissed by a man—something she’d longed for as a silly, headstrong girl, and as a sober, married woman.
But she’d never known. It had been Philip’s punishment to deny her the most basic affection between husband and wife.
Were Thornton’s lips as soft as hers? Would his mouthbe as tender as his fingers—or hard anddangerous? Just the thought of it sent another uncontrollable shiver racing down to her toes.
But he didn’t kiss her, though his fingers stroked her throat so slowly she wanted to scream with the unbearable tension. They lingered in the hollow between her collarbone, then dipped just beneath the neckline of her gown. Once again, she felt the hard ridgeof his erection.
Roselyn swallowed a gasp, and her scattered mind finally directed her speech. “You must do this often—I mean this must seem so familiar to you.”
He’d been contemplating her garments—or so she told herself—but now he looked up into her face.
“What?”
“From the rumors that spread from London—”
“London?”
His puzzled frown at least let her know that he’d been as distracted asshe was.
